The pleasure of piracy
by Quen Galad
Summary: The pirate lord Desharik has been the unquestionable ruler of Brynnlaw for a long time, but the arrival of a mysterious, powerful woman brings about many changes. Based loosely on Romatic Encounters mod for Baldur's Gate 2.


The wind whipped incessantly at the stone walls of the mansion, carrying the smell of the sea and the taste of salt. The mansion towered over the small town of Brynnlaw, seeming to hold it subdued, which is in fact exactly what it was doing. Or at least what it's occupant was doing. The big, luxurious house belonged to Desharik, the local pirate lord, and he was not a man who tolerated disobedience.

A strong and cunning man, he found no difficulty in dominating the pirates that have forever used the tiny fishing village as their hideout. He had brains, too, and it did not take him long to understand how profitable the presence of the magic asylum could be to an enterprising pirate lord. His contacts with Spellhold were providing him with great opportunities and the shadow this strange facility cast on the island did wonders to curb the ambition rival pirates could have otherwise had for Desharik's position. The small port was under his full control, the ships taxed heavily both on arriving and leaving, and there was nobody in the town that would dream of opposing him. The only thing in Brynnlaw he did not control was the asylum, and even there he was able to find an advantage.

It was therefore no surprise that he was greatly annoyed to find this convenient balance disturbed. A week ago, a strange ship came from the mainland, carrying a small group of people who were neither pirates nor ordinary mercenaries, but who were definitely trouble. In the space of six hours, they managed to ruin the local brothel, kill its owner – the only marginally important person in town – and eliminate the Cowled Wizard supervisor without breaking a sweat. Desharik's men reported they planned to get inside Spellhold, and he found himself in a very uncomfortable position. On one hand, he was sure that upsetting the asylum would cause him a lot of problems ; on the other, he realized very well he had no tangible chance of opposing those people. So he was in no good mood when their leader came to see him, seeking his help. She was a young woman, yet powerful and attractive in a dangerous way, and he found her incredibly enticing. Unfortunately, she was an obvious threat. Still, after some negotiation they reached an agreement, and it was a most pleasurable one. Desharik smiled at the memory of her body stretched on the floor, her hot breath and her stiffed moans...

He shook his head to dislodge those pleasant thoughts. They got a deal, and that was a week ago. Following her departure, scouts reported more screams from the prison and then silence. The glow in some of the windows, which was permanent until now, had died out. Nobody knew what happened, and there was no way of finding out, but Desharik had a feeling she got what she came for, because a woman like that always gets what she wants. If so, this meant his precious status quo was no longer. And if not...

He swore loudly and tried to take his mind off this by occupying himself with the most recent treasure his men had acquired. Golden chalices, jewelery, gems and some fine weapons – he locked his door securely and picked over the loot, tossing things he didn't like on the floor and putting those he wanted to keep on a sideboard. This was an activity that had always pleased him and did wonders for his mood, but not today. Why couldn't he stop thinking about her?

She was powerful, she was dangerous and he had no real power over her. That was it. He told her, then, that he could have any woman on the island and that was quite true, but there were not many women in Brynnlaw that were worth having. His lover, Cayia, was the most attractive among them, but their relationship was mainly for show. The ruler of the island had, of course, to have the most beautiful woman as his mistress, and the most beautiful woman would of course want the most influential man as her lover, but other than that they found little attraction in each other. And even though he was a brute, Desharik was not enjoying forced caresses. When lady Galvena's brothel was still operating, he sometimes payed for her girls to entertain him, but their fear of his power and legendary temper was paralyzing them, and he didn't like that. What he wanted was a woman who would appreciate his raw lust, who would enjoy the force of his desire, and he couldn't get that from the women who feared him. Her, on the other hand...

He threw a golden cup at the wall, leaving a dent, and cursed again. Well, if he couldn't get the sex he wanted, he would damn well get the dinner he wanted. It was one of the things that made all the power struggle worthwhile.

He turned to his big desk, where an assortment of finest alcohols and foodstuffs was waiting for his attention, and froze.

She was lounging carelessly in his chair, her legs propped up on the desk, wearing tall black boots, black leather leggings and jerkin together with a black, hooded shirt. She held a crystal chalice of wine in her one hand and a piece of fruit in the other. When she saw him look at her she inspected him like some interesting insect.

„Good body and quite an intriguing colour" she said. „Pity your men couldn't keep it in a better condition."

„Men?" Desharik tried to compose himself, tried not to show how angered and yes, frightened, he was by this intrusion. Knowing he made such an easy target of himself only made him angrier. „You're talking about the wine?" he asked, trying to sound casual. Behind her, the window he knew he had closed was open, and he could just make out a rope hanging outside. And he didn't hear a single thing.

„Yes, I am. It's not bad, mind you. But in a right environment it could have been much more" she smiled a cold smile, and took the fruit in her mouth, together with the tips of her fingers that held it. Desharik tired not to stare.

„What do you want?" he growled. „You're back from the asylum, so I presume you had it wrecked?"

„They refused to cooperate" she replied, licking the juice off her fingers. She took a sip of the wine. „I did what was necessary to secure the safety and well-being of my sister, thank you. It did cost me, however."

„I don't care about your sister" barked Desharik. „What I do care about is my position here, and your presence is threatening it again. I won't tolerate that."

He didn't even see her hand move. There was a blur, a brush of air on his cheek, and a thud as a throwing dagger hit the wall behind him. He turned around to look at it and saw one of his braids driven into the wood by the still vibrating knife. Another swish and she was standing there, pulling the blade out and hiding the strand of hair in her pocket. She smiled another one of her infuriating, cold smiles.

„A keepsake" she said. „It is exactly your position here that I came to discuss, Desharik. This," she indicated the dagger and then put it on the sideboard, „was only to prove a point. Have a drink."

She poured two chalices of wine and handed him one, then drank the other looking him in the eye.

„You are an interesting man, Desharik. You sit on this island like a dragon on its hoard, but the town is no treasure and you are certainly no dragon... And yet you are not some stupid thug cherishing his mean little power, either. Here you are, drinking some fine wine, eating some fine food and by the smell of it you've even taken a bath. How very unusual for an insignificant little tyrant of an insignificant little pirate port..."

His hand clamped her wrist and the wine spiralled out of the glass, splashing their arms. „I won't stand here and listen to you insulting me. What do you want?" he asked again, squeezing her hand. He tried to catch her other wrist, but she twisted in his grip and suddenly he felt the prick of a knife on his throat.

„I want your ship. I need to get off this stinking island, and I'm told only your ship is good enough for my tastes."

The pirate lord was actually taken aback at this audacity. He thought about solving the problem in the usual way, but the pressure of her knife on his neck discouraged him from any rash actions. He laughed, a low, mirthless laugh.

„You're brave, I'll give you that" he said. „Nobody has ever even tried to sneak into my private apartments, and certainly no one has ever demanded the use of my ship."

They stood so close he could feel her breasts brush against his chest, their eyes locked, their bodies tense, each waiting for the other to move. Finally, she spoke.

„You're a big man in a little town, Desharik... Remember that there's a whole world beyond Brynnlaw, and in that world the mighty Desharik is nothing. That world will crush him like an insect if he tries to oppose it, and indeed, so shall I." She held his gaze steadily and then put the second knife next to the first. „So consider yourself lucky, because normally I don't ask, I just take."

„So do I" he hissed. His one hand still held her wrist tightly and now he grasped her hip with the other, pushing her backwards until she hit the wall. Holding her against it, he brought his lips onto hers in a harsh kiss, hungry and demanding, his tongue exploring her mouth aggressively and his hands squeezing her breasts through the clothing. He felt her respond, her arm wrapping around his shoulders, her mouth yielding to him, and he paused to give her a satisfied smirk. It is then that he felt the cold touch of the knife once more.

She was holding it against his neck like before, but her other hand was slowly sliding below his waist, to the place where his leather leggings were quickly getting less and less comfortable. His breath hissed between his teeth as she groped him casually, smiling and keeping her eyes on his face. Then suddenly the knife was pulled back, and the sharp edge cut his shirt in a half, exposing his chest. With a playful smile she leaned forward and buried her head between the parting folds of the ripped fabric. She was running her tongue teasingly over his chest when he twisted the dagger out of her grip.

„You will pay for this" he growled, as the knife clattered on the floor. „That was my favorite shirt."

She had no time to react as he threw her face down on the ground, prying her legs apart and keeping them that way with his knees. She writhed under his weight, trying to push herself back up, but he was lying full length on her back now, his hands on her breasts and his lips on her neck, licking and biting her skin as he tugged at the laces of her leather jerkin. He was unsuccessful with it, however, and soon she felt his weight removed.

„Take it off, pretty, or I'll cut it like you cut mine. And you wouldn't want to walk around Brynnlaw without it."

She tried to get up again, but he put his hands on her hips and kept her down on the floor as he waited. She felt his palms brush up and down her bottom a few times, and then one of them slided between her legs. His hand rubbing her through the supple leather, Desharik gave a low, throaty chuckle.

„What a lovely heat... I think you want something, and I think you're going to get it. Now off with those clothes before I get really angry."

She gave up and swiftly undid the laces of her jerkin, pulling it off together with the shirt she wore underneath. A few more movements and her breastbinding followed, leaving her stripped to the waist and open for Desharik's eager exploration. She felt him lie on her again as his hands searched for her naked breasts, his hips grinding against her backside in a steady rhythm. He teased her nipples and licked her ear, smiling smugly as she gasped at his touch. Soon she too was grinding her backside against his hard body, moaning softly and trying to lift herself on her hands and knees. Desharik pinched her nipples one last time and got up again.

„Now the pants. Take them off, and I'm not going to repeat myself" he said, and she knew by his voice he was as desperate for her as she was desperate for him. But her rebellious spirit took over.

„That's not how you get a woman to undress for you, Desharik" she mocked, stretching her body languidly. She couldn't see his face but his breath was enough of a giveaway.

„You're right, it's not." he replied, and his voice had a predatory edge. „That's how I do it." She gasped as a hard slap landed on her buttocks and she tried to squirm out of the way, but a hand was put on the small of her back and held her in place. Another slap followed.

„Strip. Right now" Desharik's voice was hoarse, and like before she found the violent force of his passion horribly enticing. Her hands flew to her belt almost on their own accord, but still he continued to spank her, his breath ragged and his hand trembling slightly. Then he released her and she heard a rustle of his clothes being removed.

She barely managed to take her leggings off – the boots were in the way – when he pried her legs apart again, his hard length brushing against her most sensitive parts. With one hand he grabbed her by the back of her neck, and with the other he resumed the spanking, lighter now as her buttocks were naked.

„Here's what you want, girl. Can you feel it? I know that's what you really came for, so you might just as well admit it" he laughed, teasing her delicate flesh and squeezing her neck.

„I... just thought we might... reach an agreement" she panted, over her shoulder. His touch, so close and so far at the same time, was driving her mad and she was squirming in his strong grasp as she tried to take him in.

„An agreement? Well, we might. But you have to ask for what you want, pretty." He was enjoying his power over her, but she could tell by the sound of his voice he wouldn't be able to contain himself for long. Still, he was right. This was what she came for.

She swallowed, finding it hard to concentrate against the tantalizing touch of his hard body. Gods, she really wanted him, so she might just as well admit it.

„I want you" she panted. „I want you to take me right now. That's what I came here for."

„Good, but you can do better" he said, slapping her behind again. „If you really want it, that is."

He moved his both hands to hold her off as she struggled to guide herself onto him, and savoured her frustrated moans. As they wrestled, brushing against each other, his self control snapped and he entered her, sliding into her more than ready body with one easy push. She let out a loud moan and lifted her hips to meet his, but he composed himself and, grabbing her buttocks tightly, started to move in an agonizingly slow rhythm. She groaned under him, again trying to speed things up, again immobilized by his strong arms. She knew there was only one way to get what she wanted.

His breath was strained and his hands squeezed her painfully, but he kept his slow, torturous pace, grunting with effort of containment. She was unable to move, and unable to take it any longer.

„'esh..." his name was lost in her own ragged breathing. „Please... I want... I need you to push harder..."

„Like it hard, do you?" he managed, through gritted teeth.

„Yes!" her answer was almost a shriek. „I do... 's why I came to you... Please, take me... as hard as I know you can... Please."

With a grunt, Desharik released her hips, making her fall flat to the floor, and hoisted himself on his hands. „You got your agreement, pretty" he hissed and entered her brutally, making her cry out.

The growl that rose in his throat was almost feral as he increased the pace, but it was soon drowned out by her screaming. Gasping and clawing at the floor, she cried out loud as he thrust into her mercilessly, harder than she ever thought she could take, driving himself as deep as he could into her hot, wet body. She knew there must be dozens of pirates around, and she felt a sudden wave of fear as she realized they must all hear her... and all Desharik had to do right now was let them in... But her thoughts were cut off at this point by an explosive release and she screamed, trembling under his weight, surrendering to his animal passion. He laughed, feeling the spasms that gripped her body, but still he kept up the violent tempo, impaling her on himself with complete abandon.

Neither of them knew how long it went on. They forgot about the whole world ; nothing existed accept for their two bodies and their desire, which took time to satisfy. Finally, with a loud grunt, Desharik thrust into her one final time and collapsed on her back as his hands gave way.

She lay under him, feeling grateful for her strong figure that could withstand his weight. She was trying to calm her heartbeat and had just begun to gather her scattered senses when she felt his hands curl around her in a strangely possessive embrace. Desharik lifted his body from hers and eased her to lie next to him on the floor, even going as far as putting his arm under her head.

"I know Havarian brought you here. Bloody cheeky of him, since I ordered him dead last time he visited" he said, his voice still hoarse.

"You can try again now, I have no objection" she replied, making herself more comfortable on his arm. "Just give me a ship and someone to sail it, and I will gladly bring you his head myself."

"Funny how everyone who ever met him wants him dead" Desharik moved his hand to squeeze her backside. "But I have no interest in giving my ships away, and with capable men to boot. This was an admirable performance, pretty" he slapped her playfully, "but it's not getting you any favors this time."

"Oh, you mean you want more?" she asked, turning around to face him. She noted the surprised, but already excited look in his eyes. Knowing it was she who made him feel that way, knowing all that heat was for her and because of her, was intoxicating. "Well, that's only to be expected. One has to work hard for the favor of the pirate lord, your men say."

"Oh yes. Although they don't work for it on their backs" he replied, smirking again.

"Neither have I" she laughed, sliding her hands around his powerful chest.

"No, but you will" he growled, his arms tightening around her. "On your back, on your hands and knees, on damn well everything I want. Are you up to it?"

"Are you?"

Much later, when the late night was becoming the early morning, Desharik's officer knocked on the door tentatively. He was not at all happy about being the one who got the shortest straw, because the boss had an even shorter temper and was not going to be pleased about being interrupted. Nobody knew how the girl got into his chambers, and the bodyguards knew that as soon as the boss was done with her, heads would roll for this slackness. Now only the few who were sure they scored enough to survive this stayed around, waiting for the inevitable storm, but they were not enjoying it. And the fact that the boss was screwing some mysterious broad for hours on end did not improve their moods, especially since her orgasmic screams were driving them crazy.

"Damn, you'd think she'd be hoarse by now, wouldn't you? How long can they keep on doing that, anyway?" he grumbled as he summoned all his courage. He knocked again.

"What?!" Desharik's voice was exactly as furious he imagined it would be.

"Sorry to disturb you, boss, but there's been some serious trouble at Cayia's..." the officer shouted though the door.

"Why should I care? There's enough guards there. Get lost!" the boss sounded really angry.

"Well... It's important, and I'd rather not shout about it through the door, boss" the pirate tried.

"All right, come in."

When the pirate entered Desharik's luxurious chamber, the second thing he saw was a pile of gold and jewels on the floor. The dinner was mostly eaten, expensive plates empty and stained on the desk, and the bottles were standing and lying everywhere. There were some remnants of a shattered crystal wineglass by one wall.

He was observing all that, because he was trying not to stare at his boss, who was looking at him with a furious expression. He was drenched in sweat and naked, accept for his boots, and he was lying on top of an equally dressed girl. Must be because of the broken glass. Supporting himself with one arm, he was fondling the girl's breast with another. Her legs spread wide and the position of Desharik's hips left no doubt about the... depth of their relationship.

From what the messenger could see of the girl, she was quite a hot broad, and of course the boss was no bad looker himself, with all that muscle and bronzed skin and dark braids. The pirate was beginning to understand how they managed to keep this going. The sofa under them was a mess of clothes, blankets, and cushions, and they were both waiting for him to say his piece and get lost.

"Seen everything?" it was her voice, measured but annoyed. "So out with it and scram."

"Um... Well, boss, someone broke into madam Cayia's house" the luckless messenger begun, "and stole the signaling horn."

He licked his lips and held his breath, waiting for the outburst. But the boss must have had enough explosions for the night, because when he spoke, it was strangely calm.

"Who?"

"We don't know. But it wasn't any of them asylum troublemakers, 'cause we're keeping good eye on them" said the pirate, anxious to present some results.

"Really?" asked Desharik. "You're watching them all?"

"Yessir. And none of them left their rooms in the Monkey, sir."

"Well, well. Sleeping soundly, are they?" Desharik asked, as the girl under him snorted with repressed laughter. "All right, I'll see to it. Get someone to clean this mess up."

"Yessir" breathed the sailor, and vanished.

When he was gone, Desharik turned his dark eyes on the girl. "So, this was your plan? Your people steal the horn while you distract me?" He run his thumb over her mouth, somehow unable to be really angry.

"No" she whispered, teasing his finger with the tip of her tongue. "It must be Havarian, and none of my friends would help him."

Desharik leaned forward, planting a strangely tender kiss on her lips. As he did so, his body shifted position inside her and she whimpered quietly. He smiled a lustful smile.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but I have to go. And you're coming with me" he said, pulling out from her despite her protests. "Pun intended. Get dressed."

Grumbling, she got up, and separated her clothes from his.

"How do you know it's Havarian?" he asked, wincing as he tried to make himself comfortable in constricting leathers.

"He approached me about stealing the horn yesterday" she replied, grimacing as her body too protested about being restrained by the clothing. "Said he would organize a ship if I get the signaler from Cayia's desk, and then we would all leave together. But he betrayed me on the way here, so I was not in the mood to sail with him again. I told him to drop dead and came to, um... talk... with you instead" she smiled, sheathing her knives.

The pirate smiled at the suggestive remark too. "Well, he must have tried on his own, then. Understandable, really, since there's a price on his head here" Desharik was quickly buckling up his gear. He noticed the girl knew about the horn being in the desk, but how did Havarian find it out? Not many people could tell him that.

He picked up his weapons and set out, motioning her to follow him. Actually, he thought grimly, the question was not all that hard to answer.

There was indeed a ship set out to leave harbor, and Saemon Havarian's silhouette was easily distinguishable on board. Desharik felt the red mist descend on his eyes as he thought about that filthy, lying scoundrel, but it didn't stop him from catching a glimpse of Cayia's form, trying to creep back to her house. And tomorrow the treacherous bitch would pretend she knew nothing about it. He turned his head and was not at all surprised to see that his more recent mistress was nowhere around. She liked to creep up, after all...

Cayia stumbled on her way uphill and fell heavily, not accustomed to using her legs for walking. Desharik laughed disdainfully, and broke into a run, gripping his sabers tightly. All rational thought abandoned him as he swung himself on board of the leaving ship, closing in like a bull on Havarian's lighter physique, bringing him to the ground, shouting some insults as they struggled. He felt his muscles scream in protest, all the exertion of the night falling down on him at this moment, but Saemon was not really fighting back, he was only delivering some half-hearted stabs... He was also strangely light and he wasn't saying anything, which was frankly amazing.

Then, just as some thought that has up till now been drowned out by exhaustion and fury got through to him and Desharik was turning his head, he felt a blade pressed to his throat.

Again.

The rage faded. "Why," he said, feeling almost cheerful, "am I suspecting you're not the pretty girl I'd like you to be?"

"Oh, I'm pretty alright" it was Havarian's voice, right enough, but he sounded disconcerted. This was unlike Desharik. "I didn't expect you to notice that, though. No offense, my friend... Can I call you that? You see, the situation is awkward, but I'd still like to think of you as a frie-"

There was no sound, or at least none that could be heard above the ever-present rolling of the waves. Saemon fell silent, and then he just fell. The simulacrum Desharik was holding down wavered and vanished, and the pirate lord turned around slowly to look at his longtime enemy, lying on the wooden deck, a small fraction of a crossbow bolt sticking out of his chest. Havarian was clutching at his shirt, trying to grab it, and his mouth opened and shut wordlessly. His lips were rapidly turning black and blue.

"But... I wasn't finished talking... " he croaked, and with a last, shocked glance above Desharik's shoulder, he died.

The pirate lord followed the dead man's eyes to the ship's mast, where a dark figure was perched, still holding a small, elegant crossbow. There was just a soft whisper of air as it jumped down.

"Best moment to strike, really" the girl said, to no one in particular. "When they're still talking. I believe the price on his head was ten thousand," she turned to face Desharik, the crossbow suddenly gone, "but I'll gladly accept the ship instead. However, I seem to have lost the captain."

His gaze was traveling from the fallen pirate to the standing woman and back, silently. He only snapped out of it when she shouted his name and smacked his rear.

"Even I would have waited for him to finish speaking" he said.

"And you'd have suffered for it. Who knows what other trouble that dog would have gotten us into? Now, let's talk about my... need for an experienced sailor."

Desharik thought about Brynnlaw, about the tedious routine the lording was rapidly becoming, and about Cayia helping Havarian. Then he looked at the woman standing in front of him. She was obviously a threat.

He reached a decision and grabbed her roughly by the waist. Hoisting her on his shoulder with only a little effort, he barked a few orders at the first mate and set out back to his mansion.

"You don't just sail out like this. The preparations will take some time" he said, patting her bottom fondly. "At least until tomorrow."


End file.
